


sins of wine and honey

by twistedingenue



Series: Sins of Wine and Honey [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, F/M, In Vino Veritas, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Voyeurism, drugged fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-28
Updated: 2013-03-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 17:58:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/738495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedingenue/pseuds/twistedingenue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How far past the county line are we going?" Darcy asks. Her eyes are rimmed, black and deep, heavy lashes and when she looks over her gaze is hooded and languid stretched out far, farther than just to the drivers side of the van, looking past Clint to the empty highway's blackness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sins of wine and honey

**Author's Note:**

> I am hoping that the tags are sufficient for warnings. Please let me know if you think anything should be added and I'll look into it.
> 
> written from trope bingo square in vino veritas/drunk or drugged fic, and a prompt of Clint/Darcy honey

"How far past the county line are we going?" Darcy asks. Her eyes are rimmed, black and deep, heavy lashes and when she looks over her gaze is hooded and languid stretched out far, farther than just to the drivers side of the van, looking past Clint to the empty highway's blackness.

She's talking with a honey-drugged, sweet voice, like waking into a dream and she can't quite get her mouth to move the way that vowels are supposed to.

"Baby, I told you," Clint replies, his hand moving from the wheel to her knee and she's preening at the touch, her ghost smile less vague, more precious, "we aren't going far, we're just getting you back to the SHIELD safehouse."

"Where was I been?" Darcy leans her head back, tilting so that her long neck is splayed against the headrest and she strokes a line, enjoying the sensation of her own skin on skin. "I only went for a little walk."

"You only went for a little walk, sweetheart, three days ago." Clint points out. He's a bad man, he likes the way she's reacting to any simple touch, but no hands below the belt. Nothing that's going to get him into any sort of trouble. There's no helping a little extra contact. "You managed to find yourself a little bit of a problem."

"Don't feel like no problem, feels good." There's only so much room to move in the passenger seat and she plays with the seat, setting the back up and down several times before laying it all the way back. Her dress rides up, her knees bare and she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, dragging her teeth as it escapes. 

Eyes on the road, eyes on the road, "Well, just a hint of it, sweetheart, it's just damned good luck I found you before someone else did." Someone who might not keep their eyes on the road.

"Sweetheart," Darcy rolls the word around, repeating it, buzzing it in her throat through her chest and diaphragm, possibly to her feet, if feet could resonate. But her whole body thrums with the word, "I could be your sweetheart."

"Not right now you ain't going to be." Clint barely makes his turn off the highway, barely makes it past the rows of gas stations and fast food, and three stop lights before the road turns into a country line, " Not until we can get a doc at the safehouse to look you over and whatever is in your system is out of it." If Darcy doesn't stop moving the way she is, smooth and purposeless grace, but nothing untoward. Just her arms and her legs, her head against the rest, fingers through her hair.

"This game isn't fun anymore. Take me home, put me to bed. Wanted you to, too." Darcy pouts, " Tied up back there, thinking, who is going to come get me? Barton's going to be so mad. I've noticed you notice. Lots of people notice...." her fingers come up to his shoulder, trying to poke at him, but she fails and it's almost a caress. But it's too electric for her and she reels back, her entire hand curling up rigid. She carefully unfurls and straightens them out in an agonizingly slow movement, wrist to knuckles to the fingernails. "That hurt, don't hurt me."

The hotel that doubles as a last ditch safehouse finally comes into view. Darcy is trying to be more subdued, and it's almost hilarious to watch how exaggerated that is. She has a beautiful expressive face and as high as she is, it's even freer than normal. Clint has to make a decision, bring her inside to the check in or leave her in the car. Neither is particularly safe, but neither is very unsafe. Not here in the middle of nowhere. 

"You wanna check in with me?" he asks. Darcy blinks through glassy eyes, like she's slipped further into whatever she's been given, all broad loose smiles and aching into her skin an infinity sign on her right arm. She doesn't respond. Right. When Clint gets back the van and opens the side door, Darcy only doesn't fall out because she's kept her seat belt on, and she's tangled in it. "Come on Darce, let's get you resting. Medevac will be here in a couple of hours."

He ends up having to scoop her into his arms, careful not to touch any of her bare skin, and he has to prop her against a wall to open the door, her laugh comes back to her, and while her pupils are blown wide and she struggles with the light in the hallway, shielding her eyes and slipping down the wall to the floor. Clint ends up dragging her in as she laughs and lifts and nearly throws her onto one of the double beds. She looks at him, licking her lips, rich and red and glossy and wet, and this is just not fair.

"Try to sleep, Darce, I'm gonna clean up." The bathroom is small, but it's big enough to piss and splash some water on his face.

Darcy hasn't been trying to sleep if the noises she makes are any indication. She's not loud, but she's constant and honey drenched, each moan running into the next. 

"There's no court that would convict me," Clint groans, taking out his very hard cock and timing his strokes to Darcy's drug filled pleasure, "I am still a very bad man." He is never telling Darcy about this, never. But she's given over to abandon and so's he, and nothing is ever going to be the same again between them, not when he can see flushed lips and hear her like this.

Darcy's still going when he jerks harder and spills out, hot over his hand. And it's not until he's done cleaning up that she comes, ceases in the middle of a drawn out, inarticulate mess of a phrase.

Clint waits a beat, wishing he didn't know what Darcy sounded like...not know, not like this, and grabs a washcloth and gets it damp. He hands it to her before he settles on the other bed.

She looks at him, her grace coming back to her, and she's less hazy and more in focus. Darcy looks at him, sad and a little lonely, he thinks and maybe projects, before saying "Sorry, needed...."

"Just go to sleep Darce, I don't care, nothing here is your fault at all." And Clint lays his head down, counting down the hours until evac, but never closing his eyes and never looking back at Darcy.


End file.
